


call it desperation

by naughtyskeletonpuns (badskeletonpuns)



Series: perhaps, perhaps, perhaps [4]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sammy, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexy Banter, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskeletonpuns/pseuds/naughtyskeletonpuns
Summary: Sammy and Ben switch things up for a night.
Relationships: Ben Arnold/Sammy Stevens
Series: perhaps, perhaps, perhaps [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1304249
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	call it desperation

**Author's Note:**

> this is not chronological to the rest of the fwb series, because when they have penetrative sex for the first time in this series you better BELIEVE they're gonna have feelings about it. anyway this series doesn't really need to have chronology anyway, it's Smut All The Down!

If asked, Sammy would insist that everything that happened was Ben’s fault. 

He was not making eyes at Ben during their show. That would be ridiculous. And if he had been, it would have been Ben’s fault for wearing that tight t-shirt that stretched across his biceps in an extremely distracting manner. And reaching across Sammy to hit buttons, causing the shirt to ride up and reveal enticing strips of skin. 

It kept reminding him of the way Ben had picked him up that one time, and how _easy_ it had seemed for Ben. Sammy was not the kind of man people usually tried to pick up. 

So yeah, Sammy had maybe been looking at Ben a _little_ lustfully, but how was he to know Ben would notice? It was in no way his fault that Ben had pulled Sammy in by the arms of his chair to kiss him as soon as they went off-air. The way they’d kept stopping on the way to the car to kiss each other was _also_ not Sammy’s fault. 

And he hadn’t been murmuring all the dirty things he’d like to do to Ben the whole drive home. That would be irresponsible, and would mean that the way Ben was shoving him up against their apartment door was actually Sammy’s fault. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “This is my fault.” 

Ben paused, mouth hot and wet against Sammy’s collarbone. “Mmm, feels like we both have a hand—” he stroked Sammy’s cock through the fabric of his slacks “—in this one, buddy.” Ben stifled a grin in the crook of Sammy’s shoulder as Sammy shook his head emphatically. 

“No. No bad jokes while your hand is on my dick.” 

“Counterpoint,” Ben said, and he started undoing Sammy’s shirt buttons. “Yes. Yes jokes at all times.” He looked up at Sammy, still grinning despite himself. 

When push came to shove, there wasn’t much Sammy wouldn’t do for that smile. He took Ben’s face in his hands and kissed him, muffling whatever terrible joke Ben was about to make next. 

Every time, Ben kissed like the world was ending, like every terrible pop song that insisted they only had tonight, that this was their one chance. He used too much tongue and wouldn’t stay still and always, without a doubt, messed up Sammy’s hair as much as he could. 

Sammy loved it, loved _Ben,_ loved every messy awful thing about him with a sort of desperate feeling that worried Sammy, when he thought about it too deeply. He made an effort _not_ to think about it too deeply. Sammy had fucked up enough things in his life, he didn’t need to fuck up this. 

“Stop thinking and kiss me back,” Ben demanded. 

Sammy laughed. “Pushy tonight, aren’t we?” 

“Don’t act like you’re not into it.” Ben leaned into Sammy’s space even more, pushing him back against the door with one hand. He may have been shorter than Sammy, but Ben was stocky and strong. There was a solidness to him that Sammy had never quite managed to achieve, implausible height and knobbly limbs conspiring against him to create a physique that could kindly be described as ‘wiry.’

“I…” Sammy was flushing slightly and he knew it, could feel the warmth in his cheeks and chest. “You’re not wrong.” 

“That’s what I thought.” Ben sounded unfairly smug for a man a head shorter than Sammy, but he was also undoing Sammy’s pants so Sammy was not going to voice any complaints. Every place their bodies touched was alive with potential energy, a thousand possibilities in the connection. 

He pulled Sammy’s pants and underwear down just far enough to free Sammy’s cock and went to stroke it, but Sammy grabbed his wrist. 

Ben stilled immediately, eyebrows creasing as he glanced at Sammy. “Sorry, am I being too much?”

Sammy shook his head mutely, keeping one hand on Ben’s waist and the other on his wrist. His face felt hot with blush, or maybe it was just how close Ben was. “No, no, not too much at all. I … had an idea. For tonight.” 

“You gonna tell me?” Ben prodded. “Or should I guess?” He tapped his lips with one finger. “So, so many options to think of.” 

“I will literally pay you not to guess,” Sammy said firmly. He breathed in, keeping his eyes on his hand around Ben’s wrist. 

Which was coincidentally very close to their dicks, which was not helpful to keep him focused on the current situation. Either way, it was still better than making eye contact with Ben right now. “Remember that time you picked me up?” he asked, voice quiet.

“Mhhm.” 

“And remember that… the first time. And I said we could do that the other way around, if you wanted, and you seemed pretty in favor of that opinion, and I mean _really_ in favor—”

“Do you want me to fuck you or not, Sammy?” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sammy said, imbuing the word with as much feeling as he could while keeping his voice at a reasonable volume. (It was possible they’d had noise complaints in the past. Ben was not great at reasonable volumes outside of sex, and awful at them during sex.) 

“Not a yes,” Ben pointed out, and he twisted his wrist out of Sammy’s grip to put both hands on Sammy’s waist. “Hey, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, I just—I need you to tell me.” 

“Shit, I mean, absolutely yes, I really, really want that, Ben, it’s only…” Sammy waved his hand at nothing in particular and closed his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be the repressed one from the small town? I’m from fucking LA, I feel like should be better at saying shit like this. But I’m not, and I know that’s not easy for you to deal with, and—”

“Wait, Sammy, that’s not it at all. You’re never something to ‘deal with,’ seriously, you’re—” Ben shook his head. He pulled Sammy into a hug, heedless of Sammy’s state of undress. “You’re my best friend, man. I don’t care if you take a long time to vocalize shit, it’s okay. I just, you know. Reeeaally would appreciate consent in this very specific situation.” 

Sammy pressed his head into Ben’s shoulder. “You’ve got it,” he said softly. 

“You ready?” 

“I’ve _been_ ready,” Sammy snapped, more curt than he meant to be. He was braced on his elbows, facing the door. And he was _not_ going to say it out loud or Ben would never let it go, but he was too fucking old to lean so heavily against hard surfaces like this for any length of time. 

It did not help in the least that Ben was draped over him, plastered to his back, working a third finger into his ass. “I have been told, by you, actually, last time,” he was babbling, “that I am maybe of slightly more than average size. Trust me when I say you were not ready.” 

Sammy trusted him. 

It didn’t mean he had to like it. 

(He did like it. A lot.)

He let his head hang down, panting, rocking back on Ben’s fingers with every thrust. “Come on, Benny, I’m— _shit_ —ready now!” 

Ben hummed an affirmative, and Sammy recognized that hum and all the trouble therein. “Ready for what, Sammy?” He crooked his fingers slightly and Sammy blessed and cursed whatever god was to blame for Ben being so damn good at this with so little experience. 

“You know!” He bared his teeth, unable to make himself say it no matter how much he wanted to. 

“I don’t, though.” Ben’s cheek was pressed to Sammy’s upper back, stubble rough along the delicate skin where Ben had tugged the collar of his shirt down. Sammy could feel it every time Ben’s mouth moved, whether it was to speak or to bite bruises along the lines of his shoulders. “Think you gotta tell me.” 

“Please,” Sammy got out. His voice was hoarse and needy. 

Ben spun Sammy around so his back was to the door. (They only stumbled a little bit over each other’s feet.) Then Ben’s hands were under Sammy’s ass and he was lifting, and admittedly most of Sammy’s weight was braced against the door, but his feet were _off the ground._

He made a frankly embarrassing whine. 

“Almost there, babe, you’re doing so good. Tell me what you want,” Ben whispered, and Sammy fell to pieces. 

“Fuck me, Ben, _please_ _,”_ he begged, shameless in a way he had been maybe once in his life before this, and he couldn’t find it in himself to regret a thing. 

Ben obeyed. He let their cocks drag together for a split second, sticky-slick with lube, before hefting Sammy up in his arms and fucking him in earnest. 

There was nothing Sammy could really do but take it, every inch of Ben splitting him open and leaving him raw and vulnerable. He was delirious on it, helplessness as good as any liquor at lowering his inhibitions.

The last rational bit of his mind noted that they were definitely going to get another noise complaint. 

**Author's Note:**

> i dug this up from my google docs drafts and realized i'd never posted it??? anyway hope y'all liked it!! leaving comments fuels me to write more samben—or you can prompt me for something specific over on twitter @wendymakespuns!


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